A caroler figurine looks out over the prospect of clouds and sun in the San Bernardinos north of the Mission Inn,
where we wake up near the sunshine of the Spanish Patio turrets,
dome,
and nearby mountains.
The clock says it's time to go (watch out for that arrow when marcheth on),
so down the Rotunda, beyond
the arcane arcade colonnade, and
the St. Francis Chapel area
vantage points of the
Jurupas et. al., over the
sacred rooftop passageway
with the northwest dome shining.
Move the car from across the street of the front entrance
arches
to the back and then recircle around this city-block hotel's east-face carolers,
to where Harriet patiently waits.
One last look at the third floor east court,
again looking out towards the Mt. San Bernardino environs
then dallying in the lobby,
before we break for coffee in Yucaipa
with the great John Curtis Browning.
On the road again, the magnificent mountain leads us to a
service station vista,
then views of Mt. San Jacinto on I-10,
where the phalanxes and
lines
of windmills in San Gorgonio Pass
almost redeem themselves,
an army
threatening us
to the north and
and south.
At last, into the preserved desert at Mecca Hills,
proceeding apace with vistas north to the Little San Bernardino
and Eagle Mountain realms of Joshua Tree National Park and vicinity;
south to the Orocopias,
with a cloud canopy over the Chuckwallas.
The rest area in the latter Valley
yields views of McCoy Peak, and,
as the light fades towards the Mules,
we take refuge in a blithe Blythe bar for albondigas and Dos Equis.
